


Fornication

by windchijmes



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Mild Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windchijmes/pseuds/windchijmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(No Incest) Fili and Kili keep walking in on Dwalin and Thorin at inappropriate moments, leaving them promptly traumatised. After one particularly vivid encounter, the lads decide it's time to have The Talk with their elders about the whole business of fornication.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fornication

When it happened, Fili was forty, Kili not far behind at thirty-five. Uncle Thorin and Mister Dwalin were, well, _a thousand and one years_ older than them, and fully-mature, and grown-up, _and_ supposed to do ancient things like talk about court or engage in combat or being named in great songs of valour.

So when they had burst into their Uncle’s chamber, intent on regaling him with their latest pursuits, they saw Mister Dwalin crouched over him on the bed – Fili made a tiny squeak-like sound in his throat and Kili thought Mister Dwalin was eating his Uncle’s lips.

They had hovered for an overly-long horrible moment, and of course, by then, they realised another two things:

One – Mister Dwalin and their Uncle were together like that. Like _that_.

Two – Mister Dwalin and their Uncle mauled each other when they kissed. Sort of like wild beasts.

There was nothing more to discover because they had fled in the next heartbeat.

Since then, Thorin could not quite mention _Dwalin_ in their presence without shifting in his seat, and Mister Dwalin became obsessively careful about the way he avoided engaging with Thorin in front of them.

Ten years after, Fili and Kili grew up, grew a lot more mature, dallied just a little in various pleasures of the flesh, and understood that there was a difference between eating and _eating at_ someone’s mouth.

But still, their Uncle and Mister Dwalin couldn’t seem to stop treading eggshells around one another. And Fili and Kili never quite recovered from the collective trauma.

++++++++++

“Well. We shouldn’t.”

Thorin grits his teeth. “Dwalin.”

The warrior Dwarf is standing, back leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking more like a disapproving minister than a soldier at that very moment. All in all, it makes for a highly frustrating sight, especially when you want that very Dwarf’s hands – _and teeth, and lips and breath_ – on you right _now_.

“We have to survey the troops later,” Dwalin says by way of explanation. He looks patient and so infuriating rational that Thorin wants to put a fist through the nearest wall. Or be ravaged into the same wall, whichever happens first. “And your sister-sons will be returning soon. Remember _that_ time?”

Thorin doesn’t think he can ever _forget_ that time when Fili and Kili first burst in on he and Dwalin swapping bodily fluids. It’s the kind of memory Thorin wants to scrub permanently from his brain. “Of course I remember,” he retorts, then pauses, before continuing. “They’re returning _tomorrow_.”

Dwalin growls a laugh, and Thorin wants to taste that smirking mouth – badly.

“We’ll be quick. There will be no delay with the troops,” Thorin finishes, beginning to stalk towards his lover. His strides are measured and purposeful, belying the storm of desire already gathering deep in his belly. “Are you done with your excuses now?”

Dwalin’s mouth is turning up in a slow, feral grin. “I think so.”

That is all Dwalin manages to say, for Thorin has surged forward to silence him with tongue and teeth. Thorin grips the coarse knots of Dwalin’s breeches, tugging them loose with rough, hard movements. He arches up into their brutal kiss, as Dwalin strips them both of their breeches and the fabric puddles around their boots. It is heated, bare flesh they feel when Dwalin’s hands grasp the swells of Thorin’s buttocks and haul their lower bodies together.

Harsh groans are dragged from both of them as their aching erections rub and slide together. Thorin does not remember when or how but his back is flush against the wall, Dwalin’s powerful bulk crushing into him. He pushes his hands up and under Dwalin’s layers of clothes, and runs his palms greedily over the hard ridges of muscles he finds. Mahal, he’s missed _this_. There is never a good enough place, or a good enough time to feel his lover like this.

“ _Thorin_ ,” Dwalin mouths hungrily at his neck. He reaches down and pulls one of Thorin’s legs up around his waist, and they grind together again and again, beginning a rhythm that has them both panting against each other’s lips.

The chamber swims giddily before Thorin’s glazed eyes in a kaleidoscope of images.

The bed strewn with furs and linens that they’ve not managed to lie in yet.

Flickering lamps throwing shadows and light across the walls.

Fili and Kili at the doorway.

There is a terrible moment when Thorin thinks he’s dreamed the whole thing up – including this tryst with Dwalin – like a nightmare.

Then he blinks again, the haze of lust clears from his eyes, and Fili and Kili are _still at the doorway_.

Fili’s face like a mask with that smile frozen on it. Kili’s jaw hanging open in comical dismay.

Thorin goes rigid at once, pushing at Dwalin, who is sucking marks into his neck. Thorin is painfully aware his own legs are still tangled around Dwalin.

“The _lads_!” Thorin hisses, his arousal dissipating so quickly his loins hurt. “Dwalin!”

True to his well-honed reflexes, Dwalin doesn’t miss a beat as he pulls away instantly, bends and gathers _both_ their breeches in a single move.

“Next. Time. _Knock_!” Thorin bellows as his two idiotic _oafs_ of sister-sons stammer out something ridiculous and bolt from the chamber.

He breathes deeply, trying to calm himself, valiantly counting to a thousand in his mind, not thinking of the fact that he and Dwalin have been literally caught with their pants down. Is it possible for such horrendously humiliating history to actually _repeat_ itself? Apparently it is.

“Returning _tomorrow_?” Dwalin chuckles a little wearily, and very wryly. He still looks aroused, a flush clinging to his face, and heat lingering in his eyes. But he has the waist of his breeches clutched in one hand and appears quite defeated by the whole situation.

“And _you_ ,” Thorin turns towards his errant lover, and does a swift assessment of their predicament. His blasted nephews will not be returning any time soon. Good. Thorin’s arousal is hanging precariously between complete deflation and re-invigoration. He glances at Dwalin. The warrior has a sheen of sweat upon that swathe of bare skin at his torso where Thorin had been stripping him. It makes the muscle there _glisten_.

Thorin makes his decision quickly. He beckons Dwalin with the imperiousness that one would expect from an Heir of Durin. “Get back here and _finish_ this.”

Dwalin raises an eyebrow as if to question Thorin’s ardour and sensibilities, but yet again, he does not get very far with his protests, as Thorin reaches out without preamble and snatch him back into his arms.

Then Dwalin’s mind stops thinking altogether when his breeches are pulled down – for the second time – and a hot, cunning mouth wraps around him.

++++++++++

The young brats are waiting for them. At a respectful distance, very carefully just out of hearing range.

Dwalin isn’t sure if he’s supposed to be amused or annoyed. The lads look properly traumatised as it is. Fili is standing very straight, quite resembling one of those stone statues at the Front Gates, and his hands are clasped together like a disapproving matron. Kili is fuming and wearing tracks into the stone floors with his pacing.

“We’ve been waiting!” Kili blurts out at once the moment he sees them. “You took a really long time.” His dark eyes are very suspicious and very accusatory when they rivet on Dwalin.

Dwalin just gives a noncommital grunt; he cannot very well explain that he’s taken such a long time because he’s been plowing their good Uncle’s arse. So he doesn’t say anything.

However, Thorin has clearly reached the end of _his_ patience, and rounds upon Kili with a glare. “Is that any way to talk to Mister Dwalin, Kili?”

“He’s not Mister Dwalin when he’s fornicating with my Uncle!”

Two things.

Firstly, he’s no longer Mister Dwalin to the lads now, apparently, having been reduced to Dwalin, the Uncle-plunderer, he supposes. Secondly, Kili just used the word ‘fornicating’. Dwalin feels a little traumatised too at this point.

Thorin’s face pales, before turning several shades of red.

Before any of them can say anything, or Kili earns himself a good hiding from his Uncle, a quiet, gentle voice just says, “Mister Dwalin, can I speak with you, please?”

All the gazes in the chamber turn to Fili. He’s smiling a little, the perfect picture of amiability. And just like that, the thickening tension in the air fades away, leaving them feeling a little foolish, actually.

“Aye, my lad,” Dwalin agrees, holding up his hands in a gesture of what he thinks looks cooperative, but Kili just scowls at him again. No matter. Dwalin’s no father, or uncle, yet, but he understands perfectly. He thinks perhaps if he chances upon his dear brother Balin fornicating with someone – _or fornicating at all_ – he’ll flip his mind too. It’s like catching your parents doing the filthy. Not something to gambol in joy over.

“Shall we go to another room?” Fili keeps smiling. It’s starting to look a little unnerving.

Dwalin acquiesces again, gesturing for Fili to lead the way. And that is how he finds himself following this young golden-haired brat to talk, while leaving his lover and his nephew still eyeballing each other in the other room.

++++++++++

The moment Dwalin and Fili leave the room, Kili combusts.

“How could you, Uncle?” Kili fairly _wails_ as he slams both hands onto the table in the room.

Thorin sighs inwardly and tries not to roll his eyes; he doesn’t think it’ll go down very well with his agitated nephew. “How could I _what_ , Kili?”

“Not tell us!”

That gives Thorin pause, actually. He’s expected Kili to be horrified by the, well, fact that he and Fili’s walked in on them fornica – _coupling_ – Thorin corrects his mind. He hasn’t thought Kili would be more distressed by the _secrecy_ of the whole affair.

“We know you’ve _kissed_ ,” Kili goes on, gesturing animatedly as he debates with nobody in particular. “I mean, I wish we didn’t see that, but we did. _But_ we didn’t know you and Dwalin are – ” he makes his point with a vague motion with his hand.

“If you use that word again, I’ll punish you,” Thorin snorts. “Severely.”

Kili looks away, his expression veering dangerously close to something sulky. “I wish you’d told us.”

Thorin sighs heavily and lifts a hand to the ridge between his brows. He massages it carefully to ease the growing headache behind his eyes. “What is the matter, Kili? You and Fili have your own dalliances outside, and I do not ask that you report them to me. Yet you demand it of me. It is difficult as it is – ” And he halts right there, realising he has divulged too much.

“But that’s _it_!” Kili is glaring at him again, his young face all fiery passion, reminding Thorin ironically of himself at that age. “We would have _helped_ you!”

Thorin blinks, uncomprehending. “What was that?”

“We would have _aided_ you,” Kili rephrases himself slowly and exasperatedly like he’s speaking to a thick-headed Dwarfling. “I mean, I wish to Mahal I didn’t see the two of you – my _Weapons-Master_ and my _Uncle_ – together – forni – doing _that_ – ” he makes the gesture again, the one that now substitutes for all things carnal. “We would have shielded you from others who dare say anything about it. So that you and Mister Dwalin don’t have to be in such – difficulty about it,” he ends with a ferocious jut of his chin. “We could at least clear the room for you to – do whatever you need to do.”

Thorin doesn’t realise he’s chuckling until Kili gives him a very withering look.

“It’s really not funny, Uncle.”

Thorin suppresses his amusement and looks at his young nephew with somewhat new eyes. “No. No, I don’t suppose it is for you.”

They regard each other carefully, not speaking just yet.

“Is it worth it?” Kili asks suddenly. And his expression is neither that of petulance nor his usual effervescence. There is something wistful, maybe sympathetic, and so earnest in his gaze that that it makes Thorin’s heart ache a little. “You said it’s difficult. So is it worth it?”

For a brief moment, the past _five decades_ are compressed into a maelstrom of too-vivid memories. Hurried, furtive rutting in secret places. Backbreaking pressure from the world around them, and the venomous, furious quarrels that follow. There had been fights too, using fists instead of words. And there was coupling after, bittersweet and tender.

Now they are much older, and Thorin mostly just remembers the warmth of tangled bodies, the peace that blankets them, and he looks at Kili and says, “Yes.”

For some reason that Kili may not even understand himself, the lad looks pleased at that reply. “Good.” And he grins for the first time that night, looking for all the world, like a proud father who’s just given his daughter’s hand away in marriage.

Thorin is profoundly relieved the conversation has turned out a little easier than expected.

Until Kili announces next, “So how is his prowess?”

“ _Excuse me_?”

++++++++++

“Please take a seat, Mister Dwalin,” Fili smiles, and like the obedient lad he is, waits for Dwalin, before seating himself across the table.

Dwalin gets himself comfortable, placing his arms on the rests, and cocking his head as he surveys the boy. He is so very different from Thorin and Kili. The dark-haired uncle and nephew are open books, wearing many of their emotions on their sleeves, always brimming with thoughts and expressions. Fili carries himself in quite the opposite way. He releases and retracts his emotions at his own will. Sometimes it is hard to believe the lad is only fifty.

Now he smiles at Dwalin, but there is an edge to it. “Quite unfortunate, is it not?” he looks wry. “I _told_ Kili not to barge in like that, but he didn’t listen – as usual.”

Dwalin snorts under his beard. “I told Thorin you’ll be returning soon. He didn’t listen much either.”

Fili laughs. Then he stops, quite abruptly, and his face is serious. “Is it love?”

Dwalin’s brows draw together sharply. That was unexpected. And all pretenses have dropped from Fili’s face. He suddenly looks young and doubtful, and genuinely worried for his Uncle in the manner of an adoring almost-son.

“Is it?” Fili presses, frowning now at his delay.

Dwalin looks into that unwavering blue gaze, and abruptly sees Thorin’s tenacity and fearlessness in the boy. They are not so dissimilar after all. “ _More_ ,” Dwalin replies.

Without warning, Fili’s solemnity cracks and he grins brightly. “Just like I thought!” he says, looking quite pleased with himself. “How long has it been?”

“Fifty – years,” Dwalin edges away a little, regarding the young Dwarf with something akin to suspicion. The boy’s lightning changes of mood are disconcerting.

“So you’ve been fornicating since the time I was born,” Fili does the calculation quickly.

“Would you stop using that word – ”

“Does it hurt?”

Dwalin stares at him for a very long moment. “Wha – ?”

Fili bites his lip and sighs under his breath. His gaze darts to the doorway to check if there are eavesdroppers. Finding none, he hops off his chair and comes a lot nearer to Dwalin. There is earnestness in his eyes when he lowers his voice and says conspiratorially, “You know. _Penetration_. Does it hurt?”

Dwalin mentally adds ‘penetration’ to the list of taboo words. “One…” Dwalin begins and shifts uneasily in his seat. He hates this topic already. “One gets used to it.”

“Really?” Fili has the air of a studious scholar now. He crosses his fingers and rests his chin upon them. “But the _first time_. It hurts?”

And just like, the first time presents itself to Dwalin’s mind’s eye. His lover, a Princeling then, young and fiery and wild-haired, spread out over the white of his own bed. Eyes glazed with lust and trepidation in equal measures as his thighs are parted, and his entrance is breached. Head arching and back bowing as he gasps _Dwalin, please_.

The warrior shifts again in his seat – for an entirely different reason now. His mouth is dry. “Yes it will, but with – _preparation_ – the pain will ease. Then there will be – ” his mind flails for a suitable word.

“Pleasure?” Fili supplies helpfully, eagerly. “So it’s pleasurable?”

Slick, molten, tight grip around his erection as he thrusts into it again and again, his lover gasping his name with every lunge, dark eyes gazing at him with such _want_ and pleasure.

“Yes,” Dwalin’s voice is approaching a croak. He shouldn’t be discussing this – he _does not want_ to be discussing this with his lover’s nephew. “Why are you asking?” he barks.

The lad frowns and looks down at his hands. There is a blush rising up his neck. “I…I just need to know...before…” he makes a vague gesture that seems to sum up everything that is dirty, rutting sex.

Dwalin is properly scandalised. “ _Fili_ , are you telling me you – there’s someone – _have you done the deed already_?” the last part comes out a bit of a roar. “ _Who_ is the dastardly Dwarf who has taken your – you – ” He’s not very good with words these days, so he makes the same gesture that Fili made earlier.

“Mister Dwalin!” Fili recoils, looking indignant. “Not so loud!” He looks away again, cheeks stained red. “He hasn’t. But we…sometimes, we…” he makes another gesture, and his eyes soften.

_He? We? What?_

Dwalin’s mouth hangs open for several moments. His mind is trapped somewhere between complete mortification that this youngling whom he has guarded since birth is babbling about his own _impending defilement_ , and the fact that the whole conversation, illustrated by images of Dwalin’s own lover, is making him aroused. He’s _aroused_. In front of Fili.

“So…how much lubrication will I need?”

_Lubrication_. Dwalin stares at the high ceilings above his head. _Kill me now, Mahal._

++++++++++

By the time Kili has questioned him about every angle, aspect and dimension regarding the whole process of sexual intercourse – between man and woman, men, women, and other objects that may or may not be suitable – Thorin is ready to stab his own brains out. Or Kili.

But the boy is gazing at him so sincerely, with those huge, wobbling brown eyes, that Thorin does not know how to refuse. So he sits there and fields the questions like a proper Uncle, his mind helpfully throwing up images of his burly lover in various states of undress and degrees of pleasure every step of the way.

So when Dwalin and Fili return from their own talk, Thorin is sitting very rigidly in his chair, hands gripping his thighs in a death-hold. The front of his breeches is just as stiff.

There is a disarming air of cheerfulness about Fili as he greets his Uncle and his brother. Dwalin however, seems pale beneath his swarthy skin.

“Discussion done?” Dwalin says shortly, striding right up to him.

Thorin manages a tight nod. Kili chirps out something irrelevant.

“Good,” Dwalin breathes, a little heavily and erratically. His lips are pressed into a grim line, and when his gaze locks onto Thorin, it simmers with heat – and hunger – and Thorin’s own breath stills in his chest. “Your chamber,” Dwalin says into his ear, low and rough and husky. “ _Now_.”

Thorin inhales long, and slow, his body beginning to thrum in the way it always does in the presence of his lover. “The troops.”

“Later.”

“The lads.”

Dwalin stares at him with ferocious desire, and a strange twitch to his lips. “The _little_ _devils_ , you mean.”

Thorin raises an eyebrow. “You too?”

++++++++++

They just nod obediently as they watch Mister Dwalin tug their Uncle out of the room. Kili even gives a small wave, and makes shooing motions with one hand. Fili smiles ever so amiably.

They even wait a little, hovering there, until they are completely, thoroughly, and absolutely sure the two Dwarf elders will not be returning any time soon.

Then Kili huffs and crosses his arms. His eyes are glinting deviously when they appraise his brother. “How did it go?”

“Torturous,” Fili says sweetly, the shy, blushing façade of earlier with Dwalin all but gone. “Yours?”

“Painful enough.”

“Excellent.”

Kili grins. “I do feel a little sorry for Mister Dwalin though.”

“Trial by fire, Kili. After all, he’s – ”

“Fornicating with our Uncle.”

“Exactly.”

 

_finis_

* * *

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